


Let Me In

by Sapphire_Raindrop



Category: Southern Vampire Mysteries - Charlaine Harris, True Blood (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Pre-Canon, So many OCs, a whole lot of OCs - Freeform, there will be no Sookie in this story so all Sookie-lovers move along
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:34:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25542943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphire_Raindrop/pseuds/Sapphire_Raindrop
Summary: How exactly does a newborn vampire survive without a Maker? Most of them die, yes, but what about the small percent that manage to get by? This is the story of Ariana Sanders, a young woman who is thrust into the underground world of supernatural creatures with nothing but her speculations and conflicting instincts to guide her.
Kudos: 7





	Let Me In

One second I was driving my car, turning my head at the sight of an unexpected set of headlights rushing toward me. The next, I was lying on the ground, my head spinning and darkness spotting the edge of my vision. I couldn't move, I could barely breathe.

Somewhere around me there were voices, angry voices, rough and loud and _scared_. Footsteps came closer and there was a moment of quiet before the footsteps retreated. I wanted to cry out for help but my lips wouldn't cooperate and form the words. My throat was so tight I wouldn't have been able to speak, anyway.

Then came the screech of car tires, the roar of the engine growing softer and softer until…silence.

After a few minutes I knew that I was alone, and if I could have I would have laughed—the realization that the people who had hit me weren't coming back to help was oddly _funny_. Sure, in the _movies_ people were cruel enough to leave someone to die, bleeding and alone, but I never thought I would see it happen in real life.

I blinked slowly up at the night sky, letting out a pained scream when the attempt at moving my shoulder resulted in a horrible grinding sound. It was as if my bone was rubbing against the ground. Something heavy and painful was in my chest, something solid that refused to budge. A thick coppery liquid coated my lips, pooling in my mouth, and I flinched at the taste of it. I had bitten my tongue enough times to know the taste of blood but I had never tasted so _much_ of it.

The smell of gasoline became unbearably strong, which sort of brought me out of the fog my mind had settled into. Everything felt detached, distant, like a fading memory.

My poor Honda Civic was on its side, the passenger side crunched like a soda can. The windshield was shattered; thousands of pieces of glass glittered on the ground like bits of diamond in the silvery light of the almost-full moon. I saw my book bag dangling off of the door and I reached for it instinctively with my uninjured arm. My phone was in there—I could call for help if I could just _reach_ it!

The exertion caused my vision to spot at the edges and a sickly sweet heaviness to surround my body. I let my hand fall back to the ground, feeling the sting of the asphalt but not caring enough to acknowledge it. Tears continued to fall—the pain was so bad, more terrible than I could hope to describe—and I looked up at the sky again. The longer I watched the stars, the more everything around me seemed to dim and fade. I coughed, spitting blood up all over my face and neck. But I didn't care; at least it was out of my mouth, that's all that mattered.

I wanted to yell, to cry for help, but from the quiet hush I knew that no one would hear me. I didn't want to die, dammit, but I was so alone and it wasn't fair, it wasn't _fair_!

I wasn't ready to die. I still had so much to do, so much to see, so much to feel. My family was waiting for me in California; they were waiting for me to drive back to see them. I hadn't been home in nearly a year, because driving from Louisiana to California was awfully expensive and time-consuming and my parents couldn't afford to fly me home. I had graduated from LSU Shreveport just yesterday. Four grueling years, but I had finally finished. I had my entire life to look forward to—surely fate wasn't so cruel? My parents needed to see me get married, I needed to see my older brother come home from Iraq, I needed to _live_ –

But I wasn't going to live, was I?

Everything was going all shimmery, the pain a mere echo. I was cold but at the same time very warm. I had to concentrate on feeling the ground beneath my body and blinking felt final—like any second I would close my eyes and be unable to open them again.

I blinked, and when I opened them I saw an angel bending over me. In the glittering haze, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, the moonlight only accentuating the beauty of her long red hair and silvery green eyes.

I had to be dead; that was the only explanation. I smiled up at the angel and somehow found the strength to lift my hand to touch her pale cheek, so blissfully smooth and _perfect_.

"Thank you," I whispered hoarsely. The angel smiled and I felt more tears trickle down my face; this time they were happy tears. I wasn't a particularly religious person but in that moment I truly believed in God and the angels. I wouldn't be alone, after all.

"Why do you thank me?" she asked. Her cool fingers held my hand to her face as her voice washed over me, gentle but raspy. I shivered at the huskiness of it, but then again, that could have been the cold that was seeping through my entire body.

"I'm not alone, in the end," I explained, and although my words were strong my heart clenched. This was it, wasn't it? I was going to die, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

The angel lifted my hand from her face and kissed my palm. "All things have an end, but when one door closes, another opens. For you and I, it is just the beginning. Do you wish to walk with me, little angel?"

Angel? I wasn't the angel, _she_ was. But her eyes were sucking me into their beautiful depths. I couldn't have said no even if I wanted to—and I didn't want to.

I nodded, grimacing at the twinge of pain the movement caused in my neck.

I felt myself drifting dangerously close to the darkness when my upper body was suddenly pulled into a semi-sitting position. I felt the cool body of the woman against my back; the generous swells of her breasts and her thin fingers against my waist. I felt my neck being bared and let out a groan of confusion. What was the angel doing? I trusted her—she was an angel, after all—but I was still a bit lost. I noticed that there was blood in my mouth, more of it this time, and I whimpered at the taste.

The angel tenderly stroked my cheek as she pulled her wrist away from my mouth—was that her _blood_ I had just drank?

"What is your name?"

I had so many questions but the sound of her voice and the feel of her soft lips on my skin made it difficult to remember their importance. Several moments passed before I could focus enough to respond:

"Ariana,” I answered, so weak that I doubted the angel heard me. Somehow she had, because she gave my hand a reassuring kiss before whispering in my ear.

"Are you ready to be reborn, Ariana? Do not be afraid, for I am here, and will be here always."

I wasn't sure why I trusted the angel so implicitly, but something in her voice, something in her eyes and her skin…it _called_ to me. I wanted to be with her, I wanted to feel the weight of her arms and listen to the husky timbre of her voice.

I wanted to _live_.

When I nodded, the angel bent down and suddenly bit hard into my neck. I gasped, because the sensation was so strong, so _painful_ , that it made my head spin and my body go even more limp. I couldn't keep a hold on my vision, it blurred and spun and the pain in my chest and shoulder flared even higher.

Finally, the sickly sweet emptiness sucked me under and—


End file.
